Two-Way Street
by Empress Empoleon
Summary: She's a fire in an snow storm and she's pulling along an ice king. / Scorpius, and deciding he can wait. .:For Amber:.


The laugh lines etched into her cheeks are like crinkled paper.

"This butterbeer," Rose declares, setting her mug down on the table, "is _really _good!" She hiccups, and quickly places her hand on her mouth in surprise, before shooting him a smile of apology.

_Is it possible to get drunk on butterbeer? _he thought in his head, looking at her. _She's had five glasses already and now she's acting completely weird._

"I think we should get going," Scorpius decides, sliding out of the wooden booth and holding out his arm for her to take.

"Aw, why? I was having so much fun," Rose whines, pouting at him in a way that _almost _makes him relent.

"No buts. Come on."

"Fine, meanie." She quickly latches onto his arm, pulling herself up but not letting go. She hugs his upper arm and places her head on his shoulder, creating an uncomfortable position to walk in but not one that Scorpius was going to refuse.

Rosmerta stops them on their way out, and Scorpius digs out a few Galleons for the bartender. She winks at them, and he rolls his eyes at her.

He lets himself out and she shuffles after him. The door shuts on the cozy pub with a clang and now the two teenagers are left clinging to each other on an empty street painted white in the night.

The snowflakes twirl down in silence, and the only sounds are her breath and his heart pounding.

"Scorpius," she mumbles, and he shivers.

He takes a step forward, the powdery snow a fleeting image as the cobblestone underneath it is revealed. She hops forward to catch up, grabbing his bare hand with her gloved one.

"You're not wearing gloves!" she exclaims.

"I forgot them," he grumbles. "What are you, my mother?"

"It's cold though," she argues. "And your hand is freezing!"

He shrugs. She shakes her head, and instead clutches his hand tight, intertwining her fingers with his.

Scorpius's eyes widen as he looks down at the redhead next to him. He can feel the blood creeping up the back of his neck; he can feel the softness and delicacy of her fingers through her glove.

She takes the first step this time; and now they continue in silence along the ghostly street of Hogsmeade, her pulling him along as he stares at her in wonder.

She had been on a date today - with Toby, or what's-his-name - not like he cared, it's just that originally she was going to spend today with him and then she cancelled last-minute for some idiot in Hufflepuff that had asked her out by writing a sonnet, and well everyone knows that Rose can't resist poetry.

Scorpius had been rightfully ticked off at her, but let her go. It's not like she knew of his feelings for her - the feelings he had kept locked up for years, the feelings of love and friendship and jealousy and breaking under her touch.

And, well, it didn't work out so well - Rose came running up to him in tears after lunch, hugging him in the street and lamenting the sob story of how she showed up to see him snogging her cousin Lucy.

He wanted to throw a punch or two, but she held him back and asked if he would have a butterbeer with her.

And that's how they ended up there, her drinking glass after glass and pouring her heart out to him, and him watching her in quiet wonder, loving how she seemed to light up the world by just looking at him.

Is it possible to become more beautiful by the second? Because as Scorpius looks at her in front of him, pulling him along, her feet running gracefully and her puffs of breath and her green scarf trailing and her red curls flying and her fingers clenching and the snow falling and catching in her hair.

She's a fire in an snow storm and she's pulling along an ice king.

He licks his dry lips and decides that whatever this is, is perfectly all right, for now.

He loves her. He knows that and he knew that and he knows he will forever because he can't see anyone ever being more beautiful than this. He kind of knew in the back of his mind ever since he met her on their first day of first year, on the train when she leaned forward and asked him with bright baby blue eyes what his name was.

He knows she only loves him as a friend, but he's banking hope on every look and touch, every spark that she creates.

So he'll wait, he decides. He's not in any hurry, and well, shouldn't love be a two-way street?

She can pull him along this cobblestone street, and maybe one day she'll look back and see him the way he sees her and then-

And then they can walk the street together.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry I took forever and I'm sorry this is so short, but I really hope you like this, Amber!


End file.
